


Like Father, Like Daughter

by ghoullly



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Murdoc trying to be a responsible parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 18:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14086527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoullly/pseuds/ghoullly
Summary: They had hoped she wouldn't take after him. He was the worst role model out of the lot of them; surely she'd have obtained Russel's saint-like patience or 2D's friendliness.But she'd taken after him instead, and in some of the worst possible ways.





	Like Father, Like Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> heyo more coping stuff lol. i've got lots of mud and nood prompts in my to-write list that i'll post in between chapters of he gunpowder princess so there's definitely more content to come! sorry for angst i'm an edgelord why do i always post so late at night ugh i'm exhausted
> 
> enjoy!!

Noodle’s face fell with a look of amused disappointment.

“Seriously?”

“ _ Aaaaa _ b-so-lute-ly  _ not,  _ chick.” Murdoc turned up his nose, cigarette dangling between his pinched lips as he flicked his lighter. “You want to smoke, you light your own. Just ‘cause I do it doesn’t mean I condone it.”

Noodle groaned, throwing her head back. “But I left my lighter on my bed!”

“Oh well,” Murdoc shrugged, “Looks like you’re going and getting it.”

Noodle cussed and mumbled something in Japanese as she stood up, leading Murdoc to lean forward to allow her back through the door, giggling and telling her “ _ oh, cállate _ ” as she went inside.

Murdoc grinned at the click of the door, pleased that he’d won. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to huddle on the side doorstep at night, right around the time when the fireflies began to twinkle and the sky dyed everything a gentle blue. She’d smoked for over a decade, she’d inform him, so it  _ shouldn’t  _ be a problem for her to borrow a light; however, his overprotectiveness that had budded within him over the last 20 years never allowed her to even touch his lighter. Almost every time they’d smoke together he’d lecture her about how smoking wasn’t healthy and ruined her lungs and stained her teeth and she’d roll her eyes, say “ _ okay,  _ Dad,” or “ _ yes,  _ Murdoc,” but he’d go on about it anyway. She’d never tell him, but she always thought it was sweet how he cared about her like that.

He took a drag, blowing the smoke out through his nose as he waited for her to come back. He hadn’t bothered grabbing his jacket before coming outside and the cold air bit at his skin. 2D was in Crawley visiting his mum and Russel was in Brooklyn because it was the week of the anniversary of the accident; he always wanted this time to himself and would visit the graves of his friends.

Thus, there were two.

Noodle accidentally hit Murdoc’s back with the door, making her cuss in remorse as she squeezed out of the small space left in between, laughing as she ruffled the old man’s hair as he rubbed the sore spot.

“That’s payback for making me run upstairs,” she said matter-of-factly as she fished the box of Lucky Lungs out of her jacket pocket. She gave her guardian a shit-eating grin as she balanced the cigarette between her lips, lighting it in one go and playfully blowing the smoke in his face, leading him to cough and wave it away, much to her amusement.

“Shithead,” he remarked, smile a mile wide. She laughed.

“Hey, can I ask you kind of a random question?” Noodle’s head lolled to the side in fatigue, fingertips brushing over scraped-up knees. Murdoc quietly nodded, dragging one last time before tossing the butt to his feet, twisting the toes of his heels overtop.

“How has my playing been? There are a few songs I feel like I keep tripping up on while onstage but I can’t tell.”

Murdoc hummed, crossing his arms, casting a glance upwards at the flickering security light, the bright white hurting his tired eyes. “Do you want me to answer as your dad or as your bandmate?”

“Mmm... let’s go with ‘dad’ first. Just for shits and giggles.”

“You’re the best guitar player I’ve ever heard in my life. Everything you’ve been playing sounds fine to me.”

Noodle laughed. “Cheers. Now the ‘bandmate’ side?”

Murdoc made a show of tapping his chin with a well-manicured nail, polished flawlessly with black gel. “You’re... still the best guitar player I’ve ever heard. But--”

“--But! Hah, I knew that was coming. Lay it on me, then.”

“...But, “Every Planet We Reach is Dead” seems like it’s a bit foggy. I think I hear you mix up notes on “Charger” too, but I don’t wanna nitpick that one because my bassline is a cakewalk. I can hardly hear you during “On Melancholy Hill”, though I’m not too worried about that one. It’s mainly “Every Planet”.”

Noodle hissed through her teeth, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. “Yikes. I was kinda hoping it wasn’t that noticeable.”

Murdoc lit another cigarette, holding it between his lips while he put the carton away. “It really isn’t, love; I’m just with you every time you play it and all of them are routine at this point--anything that’s off will be blatant to me.” 

Noodle nodded, processing that. The two sat in silence for a bit before she leant back, glancing up at the stars.

“What were you planning on doing tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Well you see, I originally had a date with a few bottles of plonk on the living room couch, but if you’ve a better idea I could ditch ‘em for a day.”

Noodle dragged, flicking the ashes off of the cigarette. “Do you wanna rehearse a little bit? We can take turns listening to each other to pick out irregularities and play at the same time to see if anything sounds odd.”

Murdoc hummed with a nod, tossing his last cigarette to the ground, letting it burn out. He stood and stretched, offering a hand down to Noodle. She tossed hers and let him help her up, brushing off the back of her legs.

“Sounds fine to me, love,” he confirmed, opening the door and following after her. Noodle shivered, tugging at the sleeves of her oversized t-shirt in the hopes to pull them lower onto her iced skin.

Murdoc turned the deadbolt and shut any of the curtains that happened to be open, Noodle yawning and and hanging out by the stairs in wait. The Spirit House was uncomfortably dull unless all four band members were there; now it just stood still and the silence made it easier for you to hear the creeping ghosts hiding within the walls and under the floorboards. Noodle disliked the fact that her bedroom was in the basement on these nights and hoarded Katsu in her room for the lack of a better defense. 

(Katsu usually got freaked out like she did but it was nice to have the extra person around. One night she had gotten particularly nervous when they left her by herself until the morning; she had been so desperate that she’d brought Cortez down and let him perch on top of her amp. That night she had learnt that Cortez feared no man and wouldn’t hesitate to attack whatever happened to materialize out of the shadows over the night. She’d borrow Cortez more often if it weren’t for the fact that he loved to caw 24/7.)

The cat trotted across the room to brush up against her legs; maniacally laughing in a joking way, she scooped the cat up and strapped him to her chest, much to his disgust. Katsu hissed and batted at her face, but Noodle ignored it, flinching and closing her eyes in disregard. Murdoc tucked his heels away, closing the closet.

“Jesus Christ,” he remarked, dragging himself over to the staircase and rubbing his eyes. “That cat is Satan, I’m telling you.”

Noodle leaned against the wall, the cat calming. “If he was, don’t you think you’d get along with him better?”

Murdoc paused in front of them in thought, Katsu letting out a hiss and swatting at the man. He squinted at it and stepped back, Noodle erupting into laughter.

“That’s true...” Murdoc grinned and a chuckle bubbled up his throat, and the two of them laughed together with an irked cat between them. The older of the two rested his chin on the top of the younger’s head, wrapping his arms around her and letting her bury herself in his chest for the lack of any free arms. 

“Night, Mud,” Noodle muffled into his shirt.

“Goodnight, kid,” Murdoc kissed her forehead, ruffling her hair and tiredly heading up the stairs, “See you tomorrow.”

Noodle disappeared down the basement door with the cat struggling in her arms and Murdoc shut himself in his room for the night.

He’d gotten probably the best sleep he’d gotten in months; sunlight crept through his black curtains, warming his face and waking him with a discontented hum. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, peering over at the analog on his bedside table. It was only about 8:30, and he yawned, running a hand through messy curly hair. He wasn’t too concerned about brushing it or getting ready; it would just be him and Noodle today, and knowing her she probably wasn’t going to get ready either, so he assumed it was fine.

Murdoc slid out of bed, taking a minute to glance into the mirror. He ruffled his hair, squinting at the tired-looking man in front of him. His eye bags weren’t anywhere near as bad as they were at Plastic Beach, but they were still vaguely there; plaid pajama pants pooled by the bottoms of his feet. He supposed if they wanted to have the second half of the day to do whatever else, he probably should get going.

Opening his door, he listened for any sign that Noodle was awake, but couldn’t hear much of anything. He stuck to the sides of the hallways so the floors wouldn’t creak and made his way downstairs into the kitchen, filling a pot with water to make tea. He and Noodle hadn’t gotten to practice by themselves since before even Demon Days--that had been when he snuck out of Mexico and came home to find her by herself, writing a damn album all alone. That was when she was just becoming a teenager and his skin was still brown and they were all younger.

Now he was getting wrinkles and his hair was peppering and his little girl was grown and beginning to get crow’s feet and laugh lines. He stood waiting for the water to boil, leaning over to rest his elbow on the stove and his chin in his hand.

He felt something resonate in his belly; it took him a minute, but he heard the low twang of a bass string being plucked, and a smile curled around his lips. Turns out she was awake after all.

Murdoc finished boiling the pot and poured the water into chipped teacups, dumping out the rest into the sink (which was pretty dirty--he supposed he needed to do the dishes today but that didn’t mean he was _going_ to). He dragged his feet into the downstairs bathroom to brush his teeth while he let the tea sit, hearing Noodle pluck away at one of the basses, warming up. She picked up how to play bass on tour during Self-Titled, often ending their nights with her wrapped in a robe twice her size curled in his lap while he held his hands over hers and helped teach her how to play one of the spare basses. Russel and 2D used to tease him for it--he’d been insistent that it wasn’t that big of a deal--but he had managed to bond with her a lot over that. Venues that didn’t demand the bigger songs got to see them perform “Double Bass” together. She’d fumble through it, and a lot of times he’d have to kneel down and encourage her in the middle, but they’d make it.

He spat toothpaste messily into the porcelain, but wasn’t too bothered to clean all of it up. (Per usual.) Running a few fingers through his hair, he inspected himself in the mirror. He was admittedly high-maintenance when it came to his looks; he was probably the worst one in the band. He always had to straighten his hair a certain way, always had to do his makeup a certain way, always had to make sure that he was either clean shaven or groomed  _ just  _ the right way...

Hell, Noodle back when she was a teenager and wore ten pounds of mismatched blue eyeshadow hadn’t even been worse.

But he wouldn’t be going anywhere today and the only person who was going to see him was probably equally as disheveled. He’d live.

He could still hear Noodle twanging away at a bass when he got the teacups and went off to find her. That was one thing he missed about the original Kong that could probably never be retrievable again; it was always  _ alive.  _ Such a dead building, being a morgue and crematory and all with zombies in the yard as often as the robins were in Detroit, but the music made it buzz with life. Somebody was always practicing, and you could hear 2D crooning somewhere in the bowels of the building while you could hear Noodle tuning the Telecaster through the vents. Russel would tap on any hard surface nearby him and make a beat without realizing it. Murdoc had always been a goldmine of lyrics and would usually rush to grab a pen to scribble verses onto napkins and such before they left him. His journals had been enough of a source for Self-Titled to get them an entire album out of it. 

Plastic Beach constantly hummed, but it had been the generators and the backup generators for the generators and the submarines... plus Cyborg Noodle, Satan love her, made things a bit uncomfortable by being around. He needed her for both the album and as a sort of pacifier for himself, but it was always so unnerving to have to plug her in and take her face off for repairs. 2D never sang and just cried instead and Russel wasn’t even around. 

The Spirit House was alive with, well,  _ spirits,  _ and things disappeared and moved on their own, but it didn’t carry the same sort of feeling Kong did. Maybe that was because they’d lived there for 3 years before releasing anything, so it gave them time to become a family before fame swallowed them all whole. They’d all bonded there whether they wanted to believe it or not.

Now everyone was broken and hurt in different ways. Murdoc chalked this up to being his fault, mostly.

Recalling this, he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing roughly. Nothing negative today; just him and Noodle. Working out kinks in the sound machine was definitely beneficial to everyone. Plus string instruments were bomb as fuck.

Murdoc pushed the door open with his hip, the lights not even on. Morning sunlight poured in through open curtains and doused the studio in gentle yellow. Noodle hunched over a bass and plucked; he recognized the progression as “Sound Check”’s. Her hair was just as tousled as his, and even with her back to him he could tell she had on one of 2D’s old shirts. Her pajama pants were way too big; Murdoc figured those were probably his, too. He set the saucers down on a stand by the door, the china clacking against the wood startling the girl into flinching and whipping around.

The bass was a deep red Flying V model. It was clearly old and battered and it was clearly El Diablo. It was clearly the one given to him by Satan when he made the pact all those years ago.

And, clearly--by both the look on her face and the way his stomach dropped--they both knew that there was a major issue with that. 

He stepped back, breathing heavily, not able to prevent his hand from sliding up and gripping the chest of his shirt.

“What’s the matter?” Noodle asked, but her voice was tight and her eyes were wide. She knew what the matter was.

“Noodle,” he managed to slip out. He leant against the doorframe and struggled to breathe.

“Murdoc?” She set it down, standing up in alert, watching him in case she needed to help him. He laughed upsettingly, shaking his head.

“Are you trying to give your old man a heart attack?” Murdoc said. The denying smile on his face faded and his eyes sunk to the floor, panicked tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Because I think you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“No, Dad, please don’t,” she pleaded, striding over and throwing her arms around him, but even her face in his neck couldn’t do much to quell it. He brought a hand to the back of her neck and tugged back on her collar so he could look her in the eye. She looked trapped, but she still tried to play it off.

_ A compulsive liar. Never one to make others worry, but usually for selfish reasons. Just like me. _

“What did you do,” he shook his head at her, “to be able to play that bass?”

She was silent and averted her eyes. He lightly hit her cheek, crossing his arms over his chest insecurely as he tried to force himself to be a parent.

_ That word. It’s appropriate, but it still feels foreign... maybe because I’m non-deserving of it. _

“Answer me, Noodle,” Murdoc asserted quietly, and the girl brought a hand to her mouth as tears immediately began to spill. The bass lay ignored on the carpet, a bright elephant in the middle of the room. She gasped and her shoulders shook. There was silence for a minute before she spoke, and her words clenched his heart and made him want to keel over.

“You never came for me,” was all she said, unable to look him in the eye.

He nodded in acknowledgement of her feelings, neither of them lifting their gaze from the floor. Birds chirped outside as if everything was normal.

“Little one, you were gone by the time I made it there.” Murdoc hated seeing her cry; her tears were contagious. He put a hand on the back of her head and pulled her into his chest, her automatic reaction to reach up and hang onto him. He could feel his shirt dampen with warm tears. 

“I was waiting for you for so long,” Noodle cried, her father’s comfort not doing much to alleviate her sobs, “I cried and cried and cried and called for you but you didn’t come.”

They hung onto one another, and he rubbed her back while she wailed. He bit his lip and blinked away tears. 

“Why didn’t you wait longer?” He asked painfully. “I could have saved you.”

“He offered me an escape route.” She admitted. “Said he could set me free if I made a deal.”

_ That  _ was where Murdoc let loose and couldn’t help himself from crying out, holding onto her so tightly it was as if he was afraid of losing her again. He pressed his lips to the side of her head, leaving them there, his eyes closed as he cried for her. He pet her hair in pity and mourning.

“Do you realize what you did?” He asked, his voice small. “Do you realize the multitude?”

“Yes,” Noodle hiccuped, but he shook his head.

“Do you?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“You sold your soul?”

“Yes.”

He inhaled sharply, his voice dripping with self-hatred as he pulled away from her, glancing over at the god-forsaken bass.

“Satan, you’re too much like me these days, I’m telling you. You’re my twin. So smart yet so...  _ so...  _ naïve.”

This made Noodle turn to him with a look of disgust, brows furrowed as she crossed her arms accusingly. “I’m not naïve!”

“Except you  _ are,”  _ Murdoc continued, shaking his head at her and walking to the middle of the room. “You’re always so quick to assume you’re untouchable and can do whatever you want, like you’re... you’re...  _ God _ or something.” It came out harsher than he intended and he winced, raising his shoulders slightly. Words were just coming out now. He heard her howl out in disbelief.

“Are you fucking  _ kidding  _ me?” Noodle roughly wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, standoffish in the middle of the doorway. “Who’s the one who had an entire  _ song  _ dedicated to themselves being God? Was that me?”

Murdoc picked his bass off the ground by the neck and peered back at her through slits, growing frustrated himself now. “That’s  _ not  _ what I meant.”

“Oh, wasn’t it? Bloody right it was. I  _ don’t  _ think I’m untouchable and I  _ don’t  _ think I’m God, thank you, so how about you take that fucking bass--”

“--Do  _ not  _ raise your voice at me!” Murdoc snapped, puffing out his chest and glaring at her down the bridge of his crooked nose. The girl took a step forward, jamming her finger into his rib and immediately sending the man over the edge.

“Don’t fucking scold me like that! I’m not a kid anymore!”

“I’ll do what I  _ damn well  _ please, thank you--”

“--Who do you think you are?”

“Your  _ father!-- _ ”

“--Why do you pick and choose when you fucking care? You left me to rot and then wrote an entire album about how you missed me--”

“--You don’t  _ fucking  _ get it--”

“--You never cared--”

“--Bite your tongue, chick--”

“--Why do you hate me?--”

_ “Noodle!” _

She stopped dead in her tracks, the two of them huffing and exhaling loudly out of their noses like bulls. He inspected her and figured he ought to be looking in a mirror; same spread legs in a sort of dominant pose, shoulders raised the same way, chin tilted upwards in an arrogant belief that she couldn’t be wrong.

_ You’ve done nothing but prove my point this entire time and you don’t even realize it. _

He carried El Diablo to the wall and roughly slammed it back into its brace, looking down at the floor as he breathed heavily and tried to level his anger. His blood boiled and he could tell hers did too, but he could feel insecurity through the way she looked at him; she tried to play it off, but he had frightened her.

_ A monster. _

“Do  _ not,”  _ he chuckled harshly, turning back to her, “ _ Do not...  _ tell me that I don’t care. Do not even try that bullshit with me.”

Her facade slipped a little, her arms shifting slightly downwards so she was almost hugging herself instead of crossing them. She probably thought he didn’t notice.

“You have no right to tell me if I care or not.” Murdoc walked towards her and he saw her knees tremble for a millisecond as if she considered backing away. She didn’t. She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

He stopped right in front of her, staring her in the face with his arms crossed, but she stared at their feet instead. Shame.

“ _ I  _ was the one that Fed-Ex box was addressed to, remember? Don’t you remember when I took you to meet that man back when it was just us for a while? When he told you why you were sent to me?”

Noodle nodded stiffly. He craned his neck downwards and bent his knees a little, raising his eyebrows and looking her in the eye. “Huh?”

She nodded again. “Yes.” Her voice was stiff and a tear slipped down her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb. 

“You’re my daughter, Noodle. I adopted you and I love you more than you’ll ever be able to fathom, even if you don’t think it seems like it.” 

She broke, sniffing and crying again, her lips quivering. “I love you too,” she said, and he wrapped his arms around her, letting her sob into his chest again.

“I need to control my temper more, love, I’m sorry.” Murdoc rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Even if you lot get mad too. No excuse for it. I’m evil, I understand.

“Tell me what happened. In Hell. I’m a listening ear; I won’t interrupt you this time. Promise.”

She didn’t respond for a minute, letting it all out still, crying on him until she didn’t have much left. She wiped her face on her hand, gripping his bicep so tightly he felt her nails dig into the mint skin there.

“They dragged me down, after the windmill crashed,” she began, Murdoc tucking her hair behind her ear, “I was ransom. They locked me away and didn’t feed me and ignored my pleas. I cried every waking minute and begged for you to save me because I knew you could. I believed in you.”

She paused as if she was waiting for him to say something. He didn’t; he promised he wouldn’t interrupt.

“It felt like  _ years,  _ Murdoc. I don’t know how long it actually was, but after so long I guess Satan got tired of hearing me whine so he said he’d make a deal with me to get me out.”

She felt his breath hitch and he held onto her tighter, tears dropping onto the crown of her head. Her voice wavered.

“He told me I could sell my soul to leave,” Noodle bit her lip, “so I did. I was scared and alone and I missed everyone and you never came, so I figured it was my only chance to escape.”

“I was coming for you,” Murdoc whispered.

“I didn’t know that,” Noodle shook her head, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know...”

Murdoc sat down on the floor and she followed suit, wiping at her cheeks and gnawing at the inside of her cheek. He shuffled over to be able to reach the saucers of tea and handed hers over, the girl sheepishly taking it and blowing into it.

“It’s probably not hot,” he said, taking his and moving back over, “I let it sit for a minute before I brought it up.”

“Oh,” Noodle replied, but she didn’t drink any.

“You were scared, I get it.” He took a sip of his, setting it in front of him and wiping away her tears. “But your soul’s gone. Don’t you feel the difference?”

She nodded. “It’s so... empty.”

“You’re immortal now. You’re like me.”

Noodle finally took a sip of the tea, clicking her nails on the side. “Am I gonna turn green too?”

Murdoc couldn’t help but smile at that. His jagged teeth seemed a bit intimidating to Noodle in the sense that she was starting to get them too; it was a change she’d noticed over time, but her teeth were becoming more triangular.  _ How,  _ she had no idea. But that would definitely make sense.

“You likely will, love,” he admitted, and Noodle’s heart sunk, and she watched her reflection in her tea. “Not for a while, though. Took me about 30 years.”

“I’ve already gone about 13,” Noodle said.

“Yeah. Yeah, I wouldn’t worry about it yet, darling, you’ve got a ways to go until that happens.” Murdoc nudged her with his elbow. “I’m just... I’m very upset. You’re so much like me. I just really would’ve rather the ‘immortality’ thing been my thing; it’s kind of like a curse, y’know.”

Noodle waited a minute. “How are we alike?”

He exhaled, looking to the ceiling. “Well... in nicer terms than what I said earlier, you’re bullheaded, short-tempered, and  _ yes,  _ widget, naïve.” He laughed. “I’m naïve, too.”

Noodle dimly smiled and laughed through her nose, but it was clearly only to be nice. She was still clearly bothered. Murdoc smiled at her and nudged her again. 

“When you were little,” his smile fell a little, “we always used to argue about who you’d take after.”

She took a sip of her tea. The birds chirped loudly outside and Cortez, obviously not to be outdone, screamed at them from the next room over in Murdoc’s bedroom. The two of them rolled their eyes and glared at the wall, and when he continued to caw, Murdoc threw one of 2D’s sneakers (why was it in the studio, anyway?) at the wall and yelled loudly for him to shut up.

“...Did you really?” Noodle asked after a second of quiet. She expected him to be nostalgic but instead he looked incredibly bothered, scratching at the stubble on his jawline.

“Yes.” She noticed that he was picking at his fingers and swatted at him to quit. “I bet money you’d be Russel’s little mini-me. That’s what we were hoping for. He’s really such a wonderful man.”

His eyes fell and he tightened his grip around his teacup. Noodle noticed the way the sides of his mouth tightened.

“You took after me, though. I don’t even think you realized it.”

She had nothing to say. She loved him to pieces but he wasn’t exactly the best person and they both knew that. They just let the silence turn awkward until it dissipated.

“What happens when I start turning green?” She asked, looking closely at his skin tone. “They’re going to notice. What will they say?”

“Well, I guess at that point we could lie and say you’re actually my biological daughter.” 

Noodle’s eyes widened. “Woah, really? How do you think that’ll go over?”

“If we’re not relevant anymore at that point we could at least snag the public’s attention for a week or two,” Murdoc snorted, “And Dee and Russ would probably be really shocked. But they’d get over it.”

“That’s uh... that would be a lie, right?”

“Huh?”

Noodle turned red, fiddling with her hair. “Like... did you really adopt me? Or were you my real dad from the beginning?”

Murdoc was dizzy; he didn’t expect such a raw question.

“...no. I adopted you; we aren’t blood related.” He bit at the insides of his cheeks. “But you’ve got my last name, and that makes you my daughter, biological or not. It means no difference to me; you’re still my little girl.”

He shoved her playfully, getting an amused yell out of her as she hit the carpet, sitting back up and laughing as she swatted at him.

“You’re my little girl even if I’m very mad at you.”

Murdoc stood up and offered her his hand, pulling her up too. He strode over to pull El Diablo off again and Noodle got her Telecaster, the two of them leaving the saucers of tea in the middle of the floor for now. They plugged themselves in and sat where they usually did.

Noodle had only tried to touch El Diablo once when she was little and immediately regretted it. She wailed for at least an hour as they tried their best to soothe the blisters on the palm of her hand; she couldn’t play for two weeks. It had been enchanted when it was given to Murdoc by Satan; only somebody who’d given him their soul could play it. Of course, the 7-year-old girl who didn’t speak English at the time had no way of knowing this.

They both tried to resume things as if Noodle hadn’t broken both of their hearts, but it was still obvious that the knowledge hadn’t settled yet. 

Murdoc’s phone rang from where he left it on the floor and they both leant forward to see who it was. Russel.

Noodle blanched and her face fell painfully serious. “Don’t.”

Murdoc just watched the phone buzz in contemplation; be a responsible adult or the cool dad? Decisions, decisions.

He bent down to pick it up.

“Murdoc, please,” Noodle begged, gripping the neck of her guitar with white knuckles, “Please don’t tell him. I don’t want them to know.”

His nail tapped audibly on the screen and he lifted the phone to his ear. “Good morning, princess.”

“Shut the fuck up, Murdoc,” Russel said on the other line, but he was only joking, as was the bassist. 

“How’s your morning going? You doing alright?” Murdoc inquired gently. Noodle bit down on her teeth so hard she thought they’d shatter.

“I’m holding it together, man,” Russel sighed, “So far, anyway. Thank you. How’s Nood?”

“Noodle...” Murdoc looked over at her and saw the terrified face of their guitarist as tears pricked her vision. He sniffed idly. “Noodle’s doing okay. We’re going to practice a little today and I thought maybe I could surprise her with dinner at a pub or something. I’m pretty sure that place downtown’s got a wing night tonight.”

“Oh, that sounds like it’ll be nice,” Russel hummed, and Noodle felt a weight lift off of her shoulders. She stared in shock at her green-skinned father, who stuck out his tongue and winked. “I just wanted to call and check in. Have fun practicing, alright? I’m gonna call Dee now.”

“Alright, Russel, call if you need to. Stay strong, yeah? I’m a listening ear if you need me.” The two men shared goodbyes and hung up, Murdoc sliding the phone into his pajama pants pocket casually, plucking at the strings and not looking up. She just stared at him still.

“You didn’t rat me out?” Noodle asked, Murdoc glancing up in a nearly bored manner. He hummed.

“Rat you out for what?” He looked genuinely confused. Noodle felt dizzy.

“For--...” She stopped when she saw a toothy grin slowly creep onto his face, and she smiled at him.

“...Thank you,” she said.

Murdoc pointed a finger at her. “You didn’t hear what I said about wings.”

“Heard you say what?”

“ _ Good  _ lass!” he laughed, and she laughed too, and everything seemed like it would be okay for a while.

“I can be like your sidekick,” Noodle proposed, “An immortal man and his daughter. We won’t ever have to be alone again.”

“Hey, slow down there, yeah?” He crossed his leg over another. “That’s a lot to think about. For now, how about we focus on “Every Planet”, okay?”

Following his advice, she pushed the thought of immortality and jagged teeth and green skin to the back of her mind, and it worked.

She’d have been lying if she said she wasn’t thinking about buffalo wings, though.


End file.
